


Pack Instinct

by dogtit



Category: Ever After High
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtit/pseuds/dogtit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramona Badwolf just wants to sleep. Unfortunately for her, Justine Dancer has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> the first webisode of chapter 4 was SO GREAT. and you will rip momfriend ramona from my cold dead gay little hands

 

 

Ramona is a light sleeper, always has been. Her mother has always joked that Ramona was the fussiest baby; any little noise would wake her up. Like the Princess and the Pea, with the pea being a creaking floorboard or a violent snore from Papa. So when Justine Dancer throws off her covers and has the nerve to  _ sigh _ , Ramona peels open her eyes and sighs alongside her. 

 

This has been going on close to a month, now, ever since the return of Dragon Games and the re-imprisonment of the Evil Queen. At midnight, Justine will get up, get dressed, put on her dance shoes, go to the studio reserved for Baba Yaga' s Advanced Ballet class, and dance for  _ hours _ . Something to do with her destiny, probably--why Justine Dancer even has doubts about her destiny is something Ramona can’t fathom--and something that drives her absolutely  _ nuts _ .

 

Sleepwalking, fine. Snoring, okay. Sleep dancing?  _ Ugh _ .

 

But destiny is important. Ramona is more than happy to follow hers, to chase in her father’s pawprints. She can’t wait until she can shed her skin and run wild, rampant and free in the forests. Sure, she’ll be hunted and hated by a good portion of the population, but honestly if she can survive highschool then she can survive the real world. Besides, the opinions of others don’t matter to her. 

 

So it’s  _ because _ she knows--just from gossip, and fables--that Justine’s been concerned about what her role to play will be, that Ramona gets up alongside her and dresses too. Just in her shirt and pants, and a little bit of lip balm; she’s not willing to get all dolled up to watch Justine sleep dance. Even her roomie's problems can't make her brush her hair at midnight when Ramona has early Beast Training and Care class the next morning. Waste of time. 

"You're lucky you ended up with me as a roommate," Ramona says, flatly. 

 

Justine’s sleepy countenance smiles, her arms already spread wide. It’s going to be a ballet kind of night; Ramona smothers a yawn against the back of her hand and hands Justine her silver pointe shoes. She frowns a little; they’re looking more worse for wear. She guesses. She’s no expert on this kind of thing.

 

“You done?” She keeps her voice a whisper, the question mostly rhetoric as Justine spins in place, swaying to dreamland music. Ramona rolls her eyes, opens their door, and lets Justine prance out. She lops a few paces behind the dancing princess, looking at pointe shoes online. The  _ prices _ on these things; Ramona is already wincing and quietly thinking about how best to approach her father about funds.  _ Maybe if I tell him I’ll work it off during summer. _ She’ll have to get Justine’s shoe size, too--

 

She looks up when she hears Justine stop. If her eyes weren't closed, Justine would be staring at the--oh, Godmother, the stairs! Her heart leaps in her throat and Ramona shoves her phone in her pocket, leaping forward as Justine gets ready for a jump. She manages to catch her roommate around the waist, growling as soft as she can. This is so  _stupid._

 

“I hate ballet nights,” Ramona grumbles. Justine merely sighs and adjusts her position. Ramona shuffles them both down the stairs; or rather, she just props Justine on her shoulder, she weighs as much as a sack of feathers. Setting Justine down is apparently cue for the girl to start  _ grand jete _ ing all the way to the hall, so Ramona follows more at a jog. She speeds up to get to the door faster than Justine, though, because her roomie will--and _has_ \--run into the closed door and refused to wake up even after that. Ramona admires Justine's determination, as much trouble as it causes. She breaks open the lock to the dance studio with a forceful shove, and lets Justine prance in. 

 

Ramona takes her spot at the cracked open door, and brings up Cheshire Cat Collector. At least she’s got Purr White’s momento. 

 

* * *

 

Her ear flicks as she hears Justine stumble to a halt. Her phone reads three am, and it’s got less than five percent battery. Ramona feels like death but she stands up, bumps open the door, and pockets her phone. Justine lays out on the cool studio floor, breathing hard, her dance finished. There’s a hole in one of her shoes and Ramona scowls. 

 

“All tuckered out, huh? Bout time.” She bends down and unties Justine’s pointe shoes, tying the ribbons together and looping them over her neck. “And you think that you  _ aren’t _ a dancing whatever like the rest of your family? Girl.” 

 

She knows she’s mostly talking to herself; Justine is the farthest thing from lucid right after a sleepdancing dream.  Ramona is still as careful as she can be as she brings Justine’s arms around her shoulders, scooping her up with a hand braced under her knees and behind her back.

 

“Nooo,” Justine moans, turning her face into her shoulder. “ _Nooo_...wanna stay…”

 

“Nope. Bed.” Ramona’s nose wrinkles. “ _Yikes._  Alright, wipedown and then bed.” 

 

“ _ Nooo _ …”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Mommmm, pleaaaaase…”

 

Wow, okay. Ramona stops midstep, fighting back a snort of laughter. It’s a shame no one can actually know that she's soft enough to make sure her roommate gets to dance, because this would be _hilarious_. And that's all it is. Funny. She definitely doesn't feel a warm, happy feeling in her chest or the satisfaction of taking care of someone else. Nope. Ramona  ignores the sleepy mumbles, hefting Justine up the stairs. Carrying her down was a lot easier, she finds, and by the time she kicks open their door Ramona feels like she has bones of lead. She still sets Justine gently on her bed, and orders her into her pajamas while she drags her feet to her vanity. She takes a pack of baby wipes from her drawer and turns around.

 

Thank Grimm that Justine can somehow dress and undress herself even while she’s asleep. Ramona is impressed, and relieved. She wasn’t about to put Justine in her pajamas; she wouldn’t overstep her boundaries like that. 

 

She's evil, not  _evil_. 

 

She wipes Justine’s face and neck free of sweat and finally gets her under the covers. Justine mumbles more sleepy nonsense and then goes blissfully silent. Ramona sighs, puts Justine’s shoes in her purse, throws out the used wipes, and falls face first into bed. She’s asleep before her head even hits the pillow.

 

The things you do for a pack.


End file.
